Loving him was Red
by SevIlyRemuDoraAlways
Summary: Songfic, Red by Taylor Swift. Post Reichenbach, John is depressed over Sherlock's death and keeps thinking about the times they had together. Hurt, he decides to attempt suicide but will Sherlock come back in time to save him?


**Hello,**

**I'm back with more Johnlock! I'm really sorry if you are wanting me to update the Hogwarts Reads Story, please be patient because it takes alot of effort and I don't want to give you guys some shoddy work.**

**Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me or else I would make Johnlock perfectly Canon. Also, I do not own the lyrics to Red by Taylor Swift. **

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_"My best friend, Sherlock Holmes, is dead."_

_**Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street**_

He remembered all the times Sherlock almost drove him off the edge of sanity with his sarcasm and insensitivity. Yet, he couldn't help but be inexplicably drawn to the other man's wit and subtle charm. Others thought of Sherlock as an arrogant bastard but John knew him as so much more. He had seen the weak, scared, vulnerable and _loving _side of Sherlock.

_**Faster than the wind  
Passionate as sin, **_

_**ended so suddenly**_

They had many good times together, as well as bad times. Although neither of them admitted it, they greatly enjoyed each others' company and they were feeling something _more_, something _deeper_, and it was a completely new and different experience.

_**Loving him is like trying to change your mind  
Once you're already flying through the free fall**_

Of course, it was dangerous for anyone to have feelings for Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. He had a mind that could change as quick as a fatal attack of an animal. Putting up with his frequent tempers and mood swings were all a difficult part of the package that came with loving Sherlock Holmes.

_**Like the colors in autumn  
So bright just before they lose it all**_

Their relationship was on and off. Sometimes they would be extremely close and intimate, yet there were the days when they gave each other the occasional cold shoulder. But they would _always _make it up. Through a simple kiss, a hug, a small gift, they would rekindle their affection for each other.

Losing him was blue like I'd never known

That day, at St Bartholomew's Hospital was possibly the worst moment in John Watson's life.

He had been through war, he had seen countless people die before his very eyes, he still had those haunting memories flash before his very eyes at night and would wake up almost in tears. Sherlock would then hold him, whisper words of comfort into his ears until sleep claimed both of them.

Yet those few minutes were the most painful experience he ever had.

"_Goodbye John_"

No matter how much he had pleaded, Sherlock would not listen. He watched with his very eyes as the only man he had ever loved threw himself of the roof and died right in front of him.

A part of John died with Sherlock Holmes at the bottom of the hospital.

_**Missing him was dark grey all alone**_

He couldn't even remember the period of time after his death. The scene of his lover's body, broken and bloody, replayed painfully through his head all day and all night. It hurt as much as a million hot knives stabbing all over him.

At night he would cry. Dr John Watson, who had been trained to not let his emotions overrule his mind, dropped all his emotional shields and just let everything go.

He would take one of Sherlock's favorite scarf and wrap it around himself, soaking it in his tears night after night as he racked with sobs for hours on end.

_**Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you've never met**_

Everyone tried telling him to get over Sherlock, forget him, but they did not understand.

After spending so much time and going through life-threatening situations together, it was hard to.

Impossible, even.

_**But loving him was red  
Loving him was red  
**_

But he never regretted it. His love for Sherlock was what kept him going during his darkest times, when he felt like giving up and using the small black gun in his bedside drawer.

Sherlock gave him life, gave him a meaning to love, to stay strong.

He would do anything for him.

_**Touching him is like realizing all you ever wanted was right there in front of you**_

The moment his eyes had opened and he realized that he was actually in love with him was when they first held hands while fleeing.

"_Take my hand!"_

The instant they connected, everything suddenly became clearer to John. The way his spine tingled, the blood that rushed to his face, the small smile that crept up his face.

He was in love with Sherlock Holmes.

_**Memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words to your old favorite song**_

"Coffee with two spoons of sugars and toast browned medium with butter on only one side." John recited as though he had repeated that order a million times.

The waiter and Sherlock both raised an eyebrow at him.

He gave a satisfied smile.

"You remember my breakfast order?" Sherlock questioned.

"Mhm." John absentmindedly murmured as he flipped through the menu and he missed the smile that flashed across Sherlock's face.

_**Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword and realizing there's no right answer**_

"Yes."

"No.

"_Yes_."

"No!"

"I'm not going to argue with you, Sherlock." John frowned.

"…"

_**Regretting him was like wishing you never found out love could be that strong**_

"_Maybe we could have been more_." John whispered heartbreakingly, tears sliding down his face as he knelt in front of Sherlock's marble tombstone.

"All those times we spent together? They were the most perfect ones in my life."

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

He didn't want to close his eyes because every time he did so, painful memories of Sherlock would come back to him.

Tears would then seep out from under his eyelids.

_**Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go**_

John really could not bring himself to forget Sherlock.

_**But moving on from him is impossible**_

How could he? When Sherlock was everything to him.

_**When I still see it all in my head**_

Every touch, every kiss, every hug, every look shared between the both of them was perfectly etched in John's mind in perfect quality.

Especially since he was still residing in 221B Baker Street and he had left all of Sherlock's possessions untouched. Every time he saw the skull, the microscope, the various parts of the human anatomy that were left around the house, he had to struggle, and fail, to keep his composure.

Yet he could not bear to throw his belongings away. Somehow they seemed to give him comfort yet torture him at the same time. It was as though they held a piece of Sherlock.

He also hoped, wished, begged even, that one day Sherlock would return and his things would still be in the same place.

Burning red!  
Darling it was red!

A blinding red haze descended in John's brain.

Maybe he could put himself out of his misery.

And that's why he's spinning round in my head

He opened his bedside drawer.

_**Comes back to me burning red  
Yeah yeah**_

Picked up his shotgun with shaking hands, tears blurring his vision.

Cause love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

_It's the only way out._

He took a deep breath and lifted the gun slowly to his temple.

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

_I'm coming Sherlock._

He suddenly felt something heavy slam into him from the back, knocking the gun out of his hand and pinning him down.

John blinked the tears out of his eyes to clear his hazy vision and felt the breath catch in his throat as he saw the intruder atop him clearly.

"Sh-Sherlock?" he gasped.

The next thing he felt was a pair of strong, warm arms holding him in a tight embrace and a gentle kiss on his temple where the bullet would have shot him a few seconds earlier.

Then everything went dark.

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**There!**

**I hope you liked it **

**Review!**


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